Sue --- Part 1
A purely fictional story of being somewhat dominated by a muscly rower-girl.
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Herein is the chronicle, of what happened to me, that time.
Ahem. Sorry. Wrong diary.
I don’t know how she worked it out. Maybe I hadn’t properly trashed my browser cache, or maybe I forgot to clear out my recent documents last time I let her use my computer. Or maybe she just noticed the way certain things caught my eye. Anyway, it was too much of a coincidence. There were details that made me squirm uncomfortably... as if she knew all my secrets.
Normally, Sue would drop by unannounced. I was getting tired of it. Partly that was my fault. I was young, naive and perhaps excessively affectionate with my female friends. I think it was pretty clear she wanted into my life. Or at least my pants. The latter I would have been OK with, at least in the short term. I just didn’t want some kind of long term entaglement with the crazy girl which would inevitably end in trauma. For her last boyfriend, blunt force trauma as well as the more traditional kind.
But I suppose I underestimated her. She was sneaky. And smart. Just not so pretty, that was my main hangup. And obsessive, possessive and paranoid.
Do I sound shallow? I worry sometimes.
It started subtly. She’d show up on her way to, or from the gym. This was new. She invited me along a couple of times. I noted a shift in her clothing, from baggy sweats to more form fitting garments. I went along with her once, just for the hell of it. I spent the whole time staring at the all the hard-bodied women there. Sue put on a bit of a show for me, working up a sweat in a pair of basketball shorts and a shiny sports bra. I had a good eyeful that day, which led to quite a fun jerk-off session in the shower at home afterwards. Alone, that is.
So yes, she was trying to bypass my brain and get to my inner animal. It would take a bit more than showing off her average-to-good bod, though. Oooh, that’s a bit judgemental, isn’t it? I went to the gym with her a couple more times, but honestly, it’s a bit boring to work out with machines.
A few weeks after she started going to the gym (or at least, letting me know she was) she traded in her road bike for a racer. The kind you bend right over to ride, with your butt way up in the air. I took in the view on one of our trips to the gym. I think she made sure to stay ahead of me so I could see her chunky (mostly muscular) thighs pumping up and down. At least, that’s what I was looking at. This is all with the benefit of hindsight, you understand.
For her next trick, she told me she’d started rowing with a townie crew. I gawped at her a little bit, which is a little bit insulting I suppose. I would have taken up rowing if I wasn’t so afraid of what other people would think. Oh, and if I had the bod. Which I don’t, really, being a bit short and not having much stamina.
To make her point, she started wearing bits of her rowing kit when she saw me. It started with some pretty non-descript but tight black gear. A long sleeve top showed up one day under a T-shirt. Then at the gym one time she wore some black lycra shorts. Those (and a hint of camel-toe) caught my eye.
Then she got herself a club rowing jacket. Simple and stylish, embroidered and printed with the club name (and her own name over the right breast), it looked pretty cool. The first time I saw I her wearing it (on a cinema trip) it triggered a reappraisal of her in my head. I’d always thought she wasn’t into team sports, but maybe it was just one of those assumptions I’d made.
And then came the time when full realisation dawned. When I realised what kind of long game she’d been playing.
“’Lo”. I picked up the phone.
“Heya. Can I come over?” It was Sue.
“Uh. Yeah. Sure. Why?” I was a bit unenthusiastic.
“Got something to show you.” She didn’t sound overexcited either.
“Like what?”
“I can’t explain on the phone. See you in an hour or two, OK?”
“Sure, whenever’s fine.” I was only mildly curious as to what it might be.
She showed up three hours later. I was a bit annoyed, having to hang around and wait, but then I didn’t really have anywhere to go anyway, so it was just annoyance at her general assumption that I didn’t have anything better to do but wait around for her... which was true. But still annoying. I opened the door for her.
“So what’s this... oh.” I was momentarily speechless. She had a big goofy grin on her face. Everyone looks better that way. Otherwise she was clad in a stunning lycra one-piece rowing suit, a short sleeve form fitting tee and a nylon windbreaker gilet that didn’t quite hide the curve of her breasts. Her arms had gained some definition from rowing, and her thighs were as chunky as ever, though with more muscle in evidence than I remembered. From the last time I’d had a good look.
“Isn’t it cool?” She was gushing a bit. “I just had to show off to someone. All those girls down at the club don’t remember the first time they got all their team kit on.”
I worked a bit of spit into my suddenly dry mouth. “Hey, yeah, looking sharp.” I’m sure my physical reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed by her. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, for a start. I noticed that her gilet had her name embroidered onto it as well. Probably all her kit did.
“You know, I thought I’d never get excited about team sports again. Not after all those bitchy college teams.”
“Uh-huh?” I was a bit monosyllabic, still processing.
“But this lot are so down to earth. They’re like, adults. There’s even a sixteen year old, and she’s so grown up. Really serious about her rowing, really supportive and friendly and... gorgeous too, but not stuck up about it.”
“Mm?”
“And a couple of girls my age, and even this forty-five year old who’s hard as nails but she doesn’t try and mother anyone, it’s so cool.”
“Ah.” I wandered into the kitchen and started boiling the kettle. She followed me in, bouncing with excitement.
“I didn’t tell you about any of this before ‘cos I still wasn’t sure if I was going to stick with it. But when we got our new gear today, and it had my name on it and everything... that made my mind up.”
I recovered a little. This was getting a little bit close to home. I tried to skirt around the topic a little. “Well, I did wonder why you’d been going to the gym so much.”
“Yeah, I forgot how sport can be fun! And I feel great. You should try it!”
I pulled a couple of mugs out of the cupboard. “Uh, yeah. Maybe not. Rowing’s not really my thing.”
“Ah, go on. Did you ever try? Mine’s black.” I tipped a little milk into the bottom of my mug in anticipation.
“Uh. Well. No. I mean, it looks pretty cool. And the gear is flash. But I always figured I’d get bored pretty fast.” That was about as close to the truth as I was willing to get. I poured the water into the mugs.
“You kind of zone out. At least I do. It’s beautiful when it goes well. Bet you’d look good in lycra, too.” She flashed her goofy grin at me again, and I searched through her obvious elation for some sign of maliciousness in her face. If she had another agenda, she was hiding it well.
I played along. “Oh my god, no. The world is not ready.”
“Aw, poppet. You don’t have to be shy. I’ve seen you at the gym, you’re OK.” She reached out a comforting hand to my shoulder. Normally we didn’t touch each other, not since we’d reached a sort of stand-off in our non-relationship, but I forgave her this once since she was so obviously happy. It made me feel warm inside, though, her touch was reassuring.
“Just OK?” I feigned miffed-ness.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Well, you know what I really think about that.” She wanted to jump my bones, of course.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“You know, this isn’t really fair.” Uh-oh. I hoped this wasn’t going to turn into another painful tear-punctuated conversation about why we would never be together. “You’re staring at me so hard it’s making me itch.”
Itch? Was that bad or good or just plain wrong? “Um. Sorry again. Just... you know. That gear really suits you. It looks pretty cool.” I thought that was cautious enough. Compliment the gear, not the bod. Keep it impersonal.
“Yeah, alright, maybe I went over the top a bit.” She shifted in her seat at the kitchen bar a little. “Can I go get changed in your bathroom?”
Sweet relief. Disaster averted. No tears today. “Yeah, sure.”
A few minutes later she was back in street clothes to finish off her lukewarm tea. I found my eyes wandering a little as we talked more about her new crewmates, imagining her tight body under her baggy clothes. But it wasn’t as bad as having her trussed up in lycra right in front of me. I put the TV on and we watched some of that Saturday afternoon garbage, the conversation decaying gracefully.
It was when I went for a pee that I noticed she’d left all her rowing gear in the bathroom. Adrenalin flooded through me. I figured I’d never have another chance, so I quickly stripped down and slid into her lycra, her tee and her gilet. It looked faintly comical on me, as compared to glorious on her, but it got me so hard I was in danger of leaving a big wet patch inside her lycra.
And then, of course , like she’d planned it all along, the bathroom door creaked open and she was standing there, hands on hips, an expression on her face that owed as much to rage as it did to lust. In my humble opinion, that is.
“You sneaky little fucker,” she said, her voice surprisingly cool. “You could have just asked.” And then she came for me. I had no idea what she was going to do and there wasn’t anywhere to run. I wasn’t about to hit her. She looped an arm around my neck and led me in a headlock to the bedroom.
Soon I was flat on my back and she was sitting astride my chest. My arms were uselessly tucked behind me, and my legs found no purchase with which to lever her off.
“Right then,” she said. “Talk.”
“About what?” That earned me a ringing slap, and I felt tears spike in my eyes. So I started to talk.
I told her about my fetish for tight lycra, not silly costume lycra but athletic wear. How team gear got me excited. How seeing girls play team sports, yearning for the embrace of the group made me feel small and dirty and desperate to be part of that. How if they all wore the same gear, and if there was lycra involved, it was so much better. How the heaving and sliding of rowing made me imagine being pressed and squeezed in the strong arms of a rower girl.
My tears were in full flow by the end, and my cock was vibrating with excitement at having this woman on top of me, squeezing my secrets out of me with her powerful thighs.
She levered herself off me slowly and lay down next to me. She curled an arm around me and held me as the tears subsided. Her other hand slid down to my cock and kneaded it through the lycra. It didn’t take very long for me to unload massively, my body spasming and twitching as she kept on rubbing even after I came. She held me then until I fell asleep, and when I woke up she was gone, but I was still wearing her damp, stained rowing kit.
I’d been asleep for a couple of hours but I still felt exhausted, and now I felt dirty too. Though it was still a thrill to wear the lycra, I felt the need for a shower badly. I stripped off her gear and tossed it into the washer on the quick cycle. A steaming hot shower perked me up and after that I realised I felt very hungry.
I was in the middle of cooking a quick pasta meal when Sue returned. She let herself in, obviously having borrowed my keys.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey. Sorry again, you know?” I suddenly felt a bit small and couldn’t look at her.
“Ah, that’s OK. I got to finally figure you out. I reckon that’s worth a bit of spunky lycra.”
I went a bit red, embarrassed. “Um. It’s in the wash already. So where’d you go?”
“To make a copy of your keys.”
Uh-oh. “You what?”
“I figured, since you’re going to be my bitch, I should have my own set.” All of this was delivered deadpan, maybe with the hint of a smile.
“Uh, Sue, I know what just happened was unexpected, but I don’t think it really changes anything between us. We’re not right for each other.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t actually giving you a choice.” She backed me into the corner of the kitchen nook, right next to my boiling pan of pasta. “I’ll have you where and when I want and there’s nothing you can do about it.” She cupped my package gently through my jeans. “I know what makes you tick now. I know how to make you sit up and beg. You’re mine now.” She kissed me softly on the lips. “Get used to it.”
My body, the traitor, responded to her. My pulse raced as adrenalin flooded my system. I vibrated with terror and lust, and my cock hardened painfully, my empty balls aching.
“Oooh, pasta.” She turned her body away from me, but jammed her hip sideways between my legs, pinning me to the kitchen counter while she stirred the pot. I tried to slither away but she was solid as a rock. “Behave.” She gave me a stern look. “You can rub yourself up against me later.” And then that grin again, making light of my predicament. It wasn’t reassuring that she was so confident.
We ate. I wasn’t really sure what else to do. We talked about work a bit, about films and TV and our mutual friends. We’d always got on fine but for me there had never been that spark of obsession that seemed to drive Sue.
After dinner we sat in front of the TV for a bit, not saying much. Then she started playing games again.
“Hey. D’you wanna try on my splashtop?” Her rowing jacket had become her mainstay waterproof, she wore it everywhere these days.
I looked away. “No,” I said quietly.
“Ah, go on, I know you want to. I’ll just get it.” And she went and picked it up from its place by the door. She came back to sit by me. “Go on. I want to see how it looks on you.”
Sue was all smiles, not a hint of her threatening demeanour. But I could see where this was going. “Sue, I don’t want to play this game. I don’t want to be your boyfriend.”
“Yeah, I figured it’d take a little while to get through to you.” She pulled the jacket over her own head and slid her arms into it. Then she sat up close and put her arm around my shoulders. The more I shrank back, the closer she shuffled herself, until I was wedged against the side of the sofa, her warm side pressed up against me through the crinkly fabric of her jacket.
Of course, I was rock-cocking-hard.
“Get up and go, then, if you’re really not interested. But if you stick around, I’ll just have to assume it’s ‘cos you want to.” She rested her other hand between my legs, brushing lightly against my balls.
Of course, I didn’t get up. I couldn’t. I couldn’t even move, my body was locked rigid with indecision. I knew this was a really bad idea, but some craven despicable part of me was desperate to submit to her.
Caught between the choice of a full-blown panic attack or the second hand-job of the day, my subconscious evidently made up it’s own mind. I sank back into the welcoming curve of her arm, and let her play with my cock and balls.
A long half-hour later, I was itching for release. She’d used the lightest of touches to stimulate me through my jeans and I was sensitized from nipples to knees.
“Want to come?” she whispered in my ear.
“Yeah.” Why lie?
“Then put on the jacket.”
“Oh, fuck. No.” But I didn’t say it with much conviction.
“’Kay then,” she said breezily. She carried on stroking my shaft with a single fingernail.
“Oh, shit, Sue, just stop it, alright?” I could feel the panic welling up inside me. Or it might have been my balls turning blue.
“Not until you say you’ll put it on.”
“Shit, OK, just stop, will you?” My breathing was getting shallow and fast.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, fuck, I’ll do it, now stop or I’m going to freak out or something.”
She stopped and put both her arms around me until the panic subsided. Then she shucked the coat off her shoulders and helped me into it. It felt good, to wear that crinkly fabric in her team colours. She zipped the neck right up and smoothed the jacket down over my body.
And then she gave me the most amazing sloppy blow-job I’d ever had, really working me over, taking my cock deep and playing her tongue over my piss-slit. By the time she made me come there was nothing left in the world but my dick, her mouth, and the stars in my peripheral vision. My hips bucked as I came, the rest of my body twitching in time, her cock-puppet dressed up in her rowing gear.
I was just lying there, enjoying the afterglow, my mind a comfortable blank when she came back from cleaning herself up.
“Come on then, boy, time for bed.” She took my arm and hoisted me off the sofa. Unprotesting, I was content to be led to the bathroom, stripped down and sponged off. Then she took me to bed and curled herself up on her side, trapping my arm under hers, her hand entwined in mine. I flopped numbly behind her, my ability to resist severely curtailed. I fell asleep confused but quickly.
***************
She was gone when I woke up the next day. I went to work as usual, but couldn’t really concentrate. I found some mindless things to do around the lab, like sanding down an old bench top, that kept my hands occupied and my brain free of worry. Every time I had five minutes off, though, my mind would wander and I’d start thinking about Sue. Her hard thigh between my legs, pinning me in place. Her endless slow teasing, and my utter helplessness before her rough handling.
I stayed late, sanding the bench with ever finer grades of paper, long after I’d done a reasonable job on it. I was afraid to go home, frankly, afraid that she’d be lying in wait, ready to fuck with my head again.
I was even afraid to go inside once I got home, but I could see there were no lights on from the street, and I reasoned that she wasn’t the skulking type.
She wasn’t there. At first I was even afraid to switch on the lights in case she saw them from the street, but I told myself to stop being ridiculous. I was in my own place and I wasn’t about to sneak around. I was still nervous for the first couple of hours, looking over my shoulder at the door all the time. I settled down eventually after ten, when I thought it was unlikely that she would still come by.
She didn’t. Not that evening, nor the next. By the third night of freedom, I had pretty much relaxed and was hoping that this strange episode was over for good. Well, my head was hoping. I still had some awesomely good memories of the firm seal of her lips around my cockhead, her tight lycra around my body. I had a couple of good wanks thinking about her, which was something I’d done before when I was bored, so I didn’t think it was a consequence of her attempted brainwashing. I acknowledged to myself that I found being physically dominated by her very exciting, but imagination doesn’t come with a price-tag. I didn’t have to sell her my soul to get myself off, so that was perfectly fine.
She came back on the fourth day, a Friday, and blew my carefully constructed state of denial to pieces.
*************
“Hey, how’s you?” she confronted me as I came in the door. She was wearing a cocky smile, a pair of baggy jeans and a cute white hoodie with her rowing club logo embroidered on it. I was a bit annoyed. I’d kind of hoped she wouldn’t come back. She grabbed me by the wrist. “Come on in. The girls all want to meet you.”
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To be continued?
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